


Snapshots from Lockdown 2020

by GreyEyedAthena0420



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cooking, Crossdressing, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, M/M, Married Couple, Panties, Pets, Picnics, Rimming, Yoga, smoking joints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:46:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24223765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyEyedAthena0420/pseuds/GreyEyedAthena0420
Summary: Happy, domestic fluff.  Snapshots about Harry & Louis being quarantined together in a house out in the English countryside.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	Snapshots from Lockdown 2020

Louis wakes to the sun on his face. He opens his eyes and sees the bright blue sky through the skylight, the bright light pouring in through the window. He turns his head to the right, taking in the empty space next to him. Then he turns to the left. The clock on the nightstand reads 7:30am. He sits up and swings his legs around to the floor, flexing his toes on the hardwood. It’s then that he notices the cup of tea on the nightstand, steam still coiling out from the top. He smiles as he gets up, pulls a t-shirt over his head, pulls on sweatpants. He wraps both hands around the mug and takes a sip.   
  
He checks the kitchen first, and finding no sign of him, heads to the living room. He finally finds Harry in sun room, sitting on the floor, cross-legged, his eyes closed, his hands resting palm upward on his knees. He’s wearing his running shorts, no shirt, bare feet, and one of his headbands in an effort to keep his hair out of his face. Louis pads into the room on bare feet, sinking down next to Harry on the floor. He doesn’t say anything, but takes a sip of his tea. “Good morning,” Harry says after a moment, still not moving or opening his eyes. “Thanks for the tea, Love,” Louis says. He sees Harry smile in acknowledgement. “You’ve already been for your run, then?” Louis asks. “It’s still early.” “Mmm,” Harry mumbles. “I woke up at five and couldn’t fall back to sleep, so I just set out then. It’s nice out,” he adds opening his eyes finally and turning to Louis. “We should have a picnic or something today.” Louis smiles. “That sounds nice.”

  
Louis busies himself frying eggs for their breakfast while Harry’s in the shower. It’s one of the few things he knows how to cook, fried eggs. He takes the pan off the heat and divides the eggs out onto two plates, giving Harry a little more. Once they finish eating, Harry immediately sets to work preparing sandwiches for their picnic. He sends Louis downstairs to pick out a bottle of wine. They are both buzzing with excitement; this is the first day of sunshine they’ve had in nearly a week and a half. After days and days of overcast skies and everything from misting drizzle to torrential downpours, the appearance of the sun is electrifying their spirits. Harry has found a basket for their picnic, and when Louis returns with the wine, he nestles the bottle in among the food. “We need something to sit on,” Louis says. “Should I get that big blanket out of the library?” Harry shakes his head. “It’s not in there. It’s downstairs. If you’ll remember, I had to wash it,” Harry shoots a significant look at Louis, who grins sheepishly, recalling last Thursday night when they spent the cold rainy evening in front of the fireplace in the library, fooling around and making each other come. Several times. All over that blanket. “I’ll grab it,” Louis says, heading back downstairs to the laundry room.

It’s a little after ten when they set out, Harry lugging the picnic basket and a tote bag with their books and Clifford’s tennis ball in it, and Louis carrying a football in one hand, and the large blanket under his other arm. Clifford bounds across the grass ahead of them, equally excited about the picnic and the nice weather. Louis spreads out the blanket, while Harry throws the tennis ball a few times for Clifford. Then Louis takes up the football, and Clifford takes an interest in that, running alongside the boys as they kick it back and forth to each other across the grass. They play keep-away next, making the game last for quite a bit before Harry takes Louis down in a tackle, rolling on top of him in the grass. Louis laughs up into Harry’s face, as Harry starts to tickle him along his ribs. Louis squirms and tries to wiggle away. “Ok, ok,” he laughs. “You win, Haz.” Harry stands up and reaches a hand down to help Louis up. “Let’s go eat.”

They settle down on the blanket, and Clifford, who had been sniffing along the trees at the edge of the woods, sensing food being unwrapped, trots over to the blanket. Harry hands Louis his sandwich, taking a huge bite of his own. Louis reaches for the bottle of wine. “Did you remember the corkscrew?” Louis asks. Harry peeks into the basket and fishes it out, handing it to Louis. “Did you remember the glasses?” Louis asks next, when he removes the cork with a satisfying pop. Harry stops chewing. “Shit,” he says, his mouth full. He looks across the field up at the house, which seems miles away now. Louis chuckles. “Nevermind. We can just drink it straight from the bottle, Love.” And with that he takes a swig and hands the bottle over to Harry. Clifford sits patiently before them, his eyes flicking back and forth between Louis and Harry, watching them eat. Harry takes a little packet of bologna out of the basket that he had packed especially for Clifford, and starts feeding him little pieces. Louis shakes his head, but can’t keep the smile off his face. “You spoil him,” he says.

After lunch, Louis lays back on the blanket, propping his head up on the football, and letting his eyes close behind his sunglasses. Harry lays down perpendicular to him, resting his head on Louis’ stomach. He reaches across the blanket and drags the tote bag over toward him, pulling his book out. He’s about halfway through _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_.

Harry is not sure how long he had been sleeping, but when he wakes up the sun seems lower in the sky. His book is lying open face-down on his chest. He turns his head to look up at Louis, whose slack mouth and even breathing tells him that he is still asleep. He turns his head back, smiling at Louis’ cuteness, but as he does so, Louis shifts beneath him, breathing in a sigh as he brings his hand up to rub his face. He runs his left hand through Harry’s hair. “What time is it?” he asks sleepily. Even though neither of them brought their phones out with them, Harry is wearing a watch. “It’s after four,” Harry says, glancing at his wrist. “Mmph,” is all Louis says. They lay like that for several more minutes, Louis stroking Harry’s hair. They watch Clifford roll around on his back in the grass a few feet away, and they both smile. “Let’s take Cliff for a walk in the woods,” Harry suggests. They slowly get up, packing everything away so they can carry it inside when they get back. There’s still half the bottle of wine left, so Harry takes it along in his right hand, taking hold of Louis’ hand with is left, and they set off down the trail into the woods, Clifford running ahead of them. Harry takes a drink from the wine bottle and passes it to Louis. “This is the most perfect day,” Harry muses. Louis looks over at him, smiling in agreement. “It is,” he says.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Louis walks slowly down the stairs. It is overcast and drizzling outside, and Louis stares glumly out the window in the kitchen. He takes up the kettle and is filling it at the sink when he sees Harry walking up over the hill of the lawn. He is coming back from his morning run on the trail in the woods. As he draws nearer, Louis can see how like a complete drenched rat he looks. He sets the kettle down and goes to the back door to meet him. He opens the door and stands in the doorway, leaning against it, waiting. He wraps his arms around himself in the chilly morning air. Harry comes closer into view, and suddenly Clifford comes out of nowhere, rocketing out of the woods and bounding past Harry. He sees Louis, and runs directly for him, streaking past him into the entryway. Clifford jumps up on Louis with muddy paws, excited and breathless. Louis scolds him down, and then notices how filthy the dog is. He is completely covered in mud, and is now sitting proudly on the white tiles, dripping mud and rainwater into a dirty puddle all around him. Louis turns back toward the outside, and now that Harry is closer, he can see that he, too, is filthy. His hair is soaked, his t-shirt is drenched and clinging to his body, his sneakers are so muddy, their true color is no longer discernable, and he has mud caked all around his ankles and socks, and mud spattered all up his shins up to his knees. Harry had been looking down at the ground with a straight face, but now that he sees Louis he’s smiling. As he gets closer though, he sees the serious look on Louis’ face, and his smile drops. “Harry,” Louis says sternly. “What the hell have you done to my dog?” Harry stops right outside the door; he peeks past Louis to see Clifford in his mud puddle in the entryway. “Um. Sorry,” Harry mutters. “I’ll give him a bath.” Louis steps one foot closer and rakes his eyes over Harry from head to toe, letting them come to rest on Harry’s face. He steps even closer, so he is inches away, and says quietly, “And who’s going to give you one?”

Harry remains speechless for no more than two seconds before he grins and offers, “I was hoping you would.” Louis keeps his face serious, holding back his smile with great effort, and says “Take care of my dog first, and we’ll see.” Harry grins more at this, and reaches past Louis to grab Clifford by the collar. “C’mon, buddy,” he says, leading him around to the side of the house. “I’ll find something you can use for shampoo,” Louis says, turning back into the house. “The hose is on the other side of the house, darling!” Louis shouts over his shoulder as he shuts the door. He sees Harry turn and start leading Clifford the other way, and he grins to himself.

Louis rounds the corner of the house, a bottle of dish soap in one hand, and an old towel in the other. He finds Harry uncoiling the hose, Clifford sitting patiently on the grass watching him. “I’ll hold, you wash,” Louis says, setting the soap and towel down. Harry nods and turns the water on. Clifford is remarkably well-behaved for his bath. Harry soaps him up thoroughly, being careful not to get any soap in Clifford’s eyes. Clifford shakes off at the end, getting them both wet. Louis throws the towel over Clifford’s back and starts drying him off as Harry winds the hose back up. Harry looks over at Louis, finding Louis already staring at him. “Is it my turn now?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows mischievously, a devilish smile on his lips. “Well now you’ve gone and put the hose away, Love,” Louis jokes. Harry leaps over to Louis, wrapping his arms around him from behind and pressing his muddy, wet, sweaty body up against him. “Oh, c’mon, Lou,” he whines, squeezing him tighter. “I am a filthy boy!” Louis smirks and twists around in Harry’s grip, pinching him in the belly. “You better run,” Louis says, continuing his assault on Harry’s belly until Harry breaks free suddenly and turns and bolts for the back door of the house.

Louis sprints after him, yelling “Take that muddy stuff off before you go upstairs!” Louis gets to the entryway to find Harry has already removed his shoes and socks, is pulling his t-shirt over his head, and as Louis stares at him, he peels off his shorts and pants as well. He grins wickedly at Louis before turning and dashing into the house and up the stairs. Louis runs after him, catching a glimpse of Harry’s bare arse at the top of the stairs. By the time Louis reaches the bathroom, Harry already has the shower turned on, his hand under the spray checking the temperature, and his back to Louis, his beautiful backside on display. He glances over his shoulder at Louis as he comes through the door. He looks irresistible, and he knows it, a smirk on his lips as he looks at Louis. Louis slams the bathroom door behind him, and launches himself at Harry. Harry turns to face him, and Louis growls, forcefully jamming his lips against Harry’s. They kiss sloppily as Harry pulls Louis’ shirt over his head. He paws at the waistband of Louis’s sweatpants, and pulls them down, humming in surprise to find Louis is not wearing any pants underneath. Louis lays his palm flat against Harry’s chest and pushes him back into the shower’s spray, not letting their lips disconnect as he does so. Louis draws back slightly to catch his breath, watches the brown muddy water swirl down the drain, and smiles up at Harry. And Harry is a very filthy boy, indeed.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

“Harry, we have a problem,” Louis announces as he walks purposefully into the kitchen. “What’s that, Love?” Harry replies, looking up from where he’s sautéing green peppers on the stove. Louis plunks an empty lube bottle down on the counter next to Harry. “We’re out,” he says. “I searched the whole drawer!” Harry smiles at Louis’ drama. “What, you don’t want to put that on our shopping list for Jim and Andy to pick up?” Louis glares at him. Harry knows Louis doesn’t like their bodyguards knowing every intimate detail of their personal life. Jim and Andy know quite a bit already, acting as Harry and Louis’ link to the outside world while they stay in this house out in the country under quarantine. At first Louis hated the idea of staying at home while someone else did things for him, hated having to cancel all his shows, and all his plans. But since he is spending the lockdown with Harry, he has changed his mind. Spending every day with Harry, alone in this house out in the middle of nowhere, has been amazing. He misses his family, sure, and he misses some of his friends, but having Harry all to himself is like a dream come true.

“What are we going to do?” Louis asks now. Harry picks up the bottle of olive oil next to the stove and sets it down emphatically next to the empty lube bottle. Louis looks at the bottle, and then up at Harry’s face, trying to tell whether or not he is serious. Harry grins, and chomps down on a green pepper. “Relax, sweetheart,” he says. “Go get that box off the little table in the hallway.” Louis returns a moment later with the box in hand. He reaches past Harry and takes a knife from the butcher block, slicing the tape on the box. “I ordered more online last week,” Harry says, as Louis opens the box and pulls out not one, but a six-pack of their usual brand. “Jesus, Harry,” Louis remarks. “How long did you think we were going to be shut up here together?” Harry grins and pops another pepper into his mouth. “I figure that will last us about three weeks,” he says slyly. “These are not all going to fit in our drawer,” Louis mutters, more to himself than to Harry, as he walks out of the kitchen, clutching the bottles to his chest.

Louis returns a few minutes later, with another package in his hand, this one a squishy mailer, like there’s clothes in it. “What’s in this one?” Louis asks, holding the package aloft for Harry to see. “Open it,” Harry says, not giving anything away. “It’s for you.” Louis looks at him questioningly as he picks up the knife again to carefully slice the package open. “Harry…” Harry turns from the stove, watching as Louis holds up a pair of lacey red panties in front of his face. Harry has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Louis looks over at him. “Are you expecting me to wear these?” He asks. He picks up a second pair that had fallen out of the package, a lacey black thong. Harry can’t hold back any longer, and he laughs, tears coming to his eyes at the expression on Louis’ face. Finally, he walks over toward Louis and says, “Actually, I ordered them for me.” Louis frowns slightly. “I thought you said this was for me?” Harry chuckles again. “I got them for _me_ to wear for _you_ ,” he clarifies. “Ah,” Louis says, fingering the delicate material between his thumb and forefinger.

His mind flashes back several years, when he was eighteen, to their place in Princess Park, and one of their first excursions out into London after moving in together. They had set out to a neighborhood with a bunch of shops, in search of a different lamp for their bedroom (well, technically Harry’s bedroom, but Louis only slept in his own bed when they had house guests over). They walked by one boutique with an assortment of items in the window, and Harry stopped them, a pair of boots in the display window catching his eye. Inside the shop, Louis flicked through a rack of vintage tees for a bit, then wandered over to where Harry was looking at a garment on one of the racks. It was a slinky black dress, and Harry was fingering the material, seeming genuinely interested in it. Louis had snuck up beside him unseen, and whispered, “you should try it on.” Harry jumped and turned his blushing face toward Louis, raising an eyebrow, wondering if he was at all serious. “I dare you,” Louis said, leaving no doubt. Harry glanced up at the shopkeepers, one of which was busy helping another customer, and the other occupied arranging shoes in a display. Harry picked up the dress by the hanger and walked quickly back toward the dressing room, Louis hot on his heels. Harry stepped back into the dressing room, waiting for Louis to follow him in, but the room was tiny, so Louis said he’d wait right outside, and told Harry to let him in when he had it on.

“You can’t laugh,” Harry warned, as he peeked out from behind the dressing room curtain. Louis grinned and snuck into the tiny room. And he did not laugh. His mouth hung open as he stared at the stretchy black dress hugging tightly to the shape of Harry’s body. Louis took in the spaghetti straps of the dress laid delicately over Harry’s shoulders, his thin pale arms hanging down at this sides, the black stretchy material taut over his flat chest. He let his eyes drift downward, and Harry turned to the side, showing Louis the cute little curve of his ass. “It’s kinda tight,” Harry commented, and he turned his head to admire himself in the mirror. Louis was unable to speak because when Harry turned his head to look in the mirror, he shifted his leg and revealed to Louis the bulge at the front of the dress where his dick was. Louis sucked in his breath and realized very quickly that Harry’s underwear was lying on the floor with the rest of his clothes, and that he was completely naked underneath the dress. “Take it off,” Louis demanded. Harry turned away from the mirror, his brow furrowed, his playful grin gone. “But…” Harry started. Louis swallowed. “Take it off,” he said again, “before I come in my pants.” Harry’s face cracked open into a grin, and he started pulling the dress over his head. “Give it to me,” Louis said, holding out his hand. Harry handed it over, and Louis slipped through the curtain, saying to Harry as he went, “I’ll be right back.”

Louis strode confidently up to the cash register, smiled at the shopkeeper, and laid the dress down on the counter. She asked if it was a gift, and Louis said yes, so she wrapped it up nicely in tissue paper and set it delicately into a fancy white boutique shopping bag. Louis handed over his credit card, and smiled broadly as he took the bag. Harry emerged from the back of the shop a moment later, fully dressed and smiley. He glanced at the fancy white bag dangling from Louis’ wrist and smiled wider. They continued shopping, eventually finding a lamp for their bedroom, and walked happily back home late in the afternoon with their purchases.  
As Louis runs the lacey fabric of the panties through his hands now, he remembers that day, when he bought the dress for Harry. He remembers how they had somehow decided that it was a special night, how Louis convinced Harry that he would cook him a nice dinner, how, together, they picked out a recipe for mozzarella-stuffed chicken, how they drank wine, weren’t used to it, and got slightly tipsy and giggly. He remembers how Harry put the dress on that night and did a strip tease for him, dancing around their bedroom and singing. Louis remembers watching, enthralled by Harry’s confidence and beauty. And then he did come in his pants, before Harry even laid a finger on him.

Louis looks up at Harry standing next to him; he’s still holding the black thong, and says, “It’s too bad that little black dress doesn’t still fit you.” Harry’s eyes widen and a smile quirks at the corners of his mouth. “You don’t think it still would?” He asks. Louis gives Harry a once-over, noting the broader shoulders, the broader chest, his increased muscle tone, his extra couple inches in height. That little dress fit perfectly on Harry’s sixteen-year-old body. He’s nearly twice that size now. Louis smiles softly and shakes his head. “I don’t think so, sweetie.” Harry takes the underwear from Louis’ hands and swings them around on his finger. “Guess you’ll have to buy me a new one then.”

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

It’s Sunday. Not that that really matters right now. All the days seem to blur together at this point. But somehow Sunday still feels like Sunday. He can’t explain it. They talk over breakfast. There was a big storm last night, and neither of them slept very well. They are both tired. “I feel like we should still attempt to do something though,” Harry says, swallowing the last of his orange juice. “Let’s take Clifford for a walk, like, a long one. Then we can take a nap later.” Louis smiles at this. He loves taking naps with Harry. So after they get the breakfast dishes cleaned up, they bundle up in sweatshirts and coats, as it’s chillier today, and cloudy, and set off for the trail into the woods.

They get back to the house almost three hours later. Louis is cold. He talks Harry into taking a bath with him. There is a large whirlpool bathtub in the master bathroom, independent of the shower, and they haven’t used it nearly enough. Instead of sitting opposite each other, they sit at the same end, Louis leans his head on Harry’s chest. He traces his wet fingertip around the outline of one of the sparrows tattooed there. Harry pats the back of Louis’ head as if he were petting a cat. Harry closes his eyes and leans his head back, using a rolled up towel as a pillow. Louis traces the outline of the moth tattoo next, which is partially underwater. Then, out of tattoos to trace without having to move his hand too far, he starts running his finger over Harry’s nipple. He doesn’t really intend for it to be sexual, but Harry is definitely turned on. Even though he still lays back with his eyes closed, there is another part of his body below the water’s surface that is seeking Louis’ attention. Louis presses his lips to Harry’s chest and then moves his hand and slowly, lazily, jerks Harry off. He moves his hand so slowly, that there is very little indication of what he is even doing. The only things to give it away are Harry’s breathing increasing slightly, and then the soft grunt he makes when he comes. Harry goes to move his own hand down to reciprocate, but Louis snuggles up closer into his chest and pushes Harry’s hand away. “Later,” he mumbles, too sleepy now to enjoy it.

After the bath, dressed in comfy sweats, Louis puts the kettle on for tea, and Harry rearranges the couch in the library for their nap. Louis enters the library holding the two mugs of tea, finding Harry all stretched out the full length of the couch, adjusting the pillow behind his head. Clifford follows Louis into the room, wanting in on the nap action. Harry scoots up a little so he can drink his tea, and Louis sits at the end of the couch by Harry’s feet. He tucks his feet up under himself and sips slowly. Clifford jumps up onto the couch next to him, and Louis strokes his head.

  
Louis sets his empty mug on the table and leans over to take Harry’s. Harry lays back down and moves over to the outer edge of the couch, making a narrow little trough between the couch back and his body for Louis to squeeze into. Louis smiles contentedly and does just that, lying on his side and draping his right arm over Harry’s chest. He nuzzles his face into Harry’s shoulder and twines his leg around Harry’s right leg. Harry pulls the throw off the back of the couch and drapes it over the top of them, while Clifford curls up at their feet. Louis falls asleep quickly to the gentle rise and fall of Harry’s chest, the slow steady pace of his breaths.

When they wake up, it’s after six. Harry awakens first. He stretches his legs, pointing his toes down and brushing up against Clifford. Louis feels him stretching and opens his own eyes. He sighs and rubs his hand up and down over Harry’s stomach. “Did you have dreams?” Harry asks quietly. “Actually, I did,” Louis realizes. “I don’t remember the details, but it was something about being in a restaurant. And I think I was eating spaghetti.” Louis laughs at the randomness. “What about you?” he asks. “My dream was silly,” Harry says. “Tell me anyway,” Louis begs. “I was trying on hats,” Harry laughs. “And my hair was really long. Like longer than it’s ever been. Like to my waist.” Louis laughs at this. “Maybe that’s what it will look like when this whole stay at home order thing is over,” Louis suggests. “Your hair’s getting really long too,” Harry says, running his fingers through Louis’ locks. “You’ll be unrecognizable when we can finally leave the house.” “Good,” Louis says. Harry kisses him on the forehead.

Louis climbs over Harry up off the couch, and stands, stretching tall with his hands high over his head. His sweatshirt rides up letting his belly show a little, and Harry wants to kiss it. Clifford jumps off the couch and walks over to the door out in the hallway. Louis follows him to let him out, and Harry makes a grand effort to pull himself up off the couch. Once he’s up though, he has renewed energy. He sweeps out into the hallway, looking for Louis, whom he hears on the other side of the bathroom door. “Let’s have spaghetti for dinner, Lou!” he shouts as he walks by. Harry hears the toilet flush, and a moment later Louis opens the bathroom door, drying his hands on the little hand towel. He’s shaking his head, but smiling. He lets Clifford in at the back door, and joins Harry in the kitchen. He’s already banging the pots and pans around when Louis takes a seat on one of the bar stools. “Do you want me to help with anything?” Louis asks, feeling slightly guilty since Harry does nearly all the cooking. “Yes!” Harry chirps enthusiastically. “First, find us a good red wine to go with this sauce I’m going to make. And then I will tell you your next task!” Louis smiles and heads downstairs.

Returning with bottle in hand, Louis holds it up, displaying the label for Harry to inspect. Louis knows close to nothing about wine, but Harry pretends like he knows everything about it. Harry squints at the label. “Ah, a Cabernet,” he sings. “Good work, my pet!” Louis sets the bottle down and turns to get the corkscrew out of the drawer, and as soon as his back is turned, Harry slaps him on the ass. Louis jumps in surprise, but smirks over his shoulder at Harry. “That nap really put you in good spirits, Haz,” he laughs. Louis uncorks the wine and pours out two rather full glasses. “I don’t really think you need this,” Louis says, handing Harry a glass, “but, cheers.” Harry takes the proffered glass and clinks it with Louis’. “Cheers, Love!” he says happily.

“So, what’s my next task, Chef Harold?” Louis asks, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, yes,” Harry says, taking a slug of his wine and turning back to the counter where a mess of ingredients are laid out. “I want you to chop,” Harry says dramatically, reaching out his hand with a tea towel over it, and then whipping if off to reveal an onion, “this onion!” Louis bites back his laughter and takes the onion from Harry’s palm. “You just want to make me cry,” Louis says, pretending to pout. “Oh, sweetheart, that is the last thing I want,” Harry coos. He steps across the kitchen and takes Louis’s chin in his hand, planting a loving kiss on his lips. Then he kisses him lightly on the tip of his nose, playful again.

One pot of spaghetti and two bottles of wine later, Harry and Louis are sitting on the couch in the den, and somehow, out of all the movies they have access to, Harry has picked _Logan’s Run_. They giggle and make fun of everything throughout the whole movie, occasionally breaking from that to make out like teenagers. “Ugh, wine makes me so hot,” Harry announces, pulling his sweatshirt off over his head. Louis is about to say something snarky about Harry being hot in more ways than one, but then he notices Harry’s face does look rather flushed, and the upper part of his chest is red with heat. And he can’t complain about the view. So he keeps his mouth shut. Harry, on the other hand, cannot keep his mouth shut. It is open constantly, all over Louis’ mouth and down his neck, and then he pauses and looks at Louis’ lap almost longingly. Harry raises his watery, wine-drunk eyes up to Louis’ and asks, “Is it later, now?” Louis giggles, snogging him once more before Harry is down on his knees, giving Louis a slobbery drunken blow job, and then promptly passing out on top of him on the couch.

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Every once in a while, Harry and Louis realize they need some time apart. Just a few hours, to be by themselves, just to think, to restore, to give each other time to miss the other. Today was a day like that. Without even discussing it, each of them went off to do their own thing. Harry spent some time in the library at the piano, playing around with melodies and writing furiously in his notebook. He talked to his mum on the phone later on after lunch. He made some chocolate chip cookies. Louis spent his morning downstairs working out in their home gym. Later on in the morning he sat in the window seat in the sun room and did some writing, responded to some emails, fooled around online. After lunch, he had a video chat with his sisters.

At 3:30, Harry walked into the sun room with his book in his hand. Louis looked up from the end of the couch where he was all cozied up with his feet tucked up under him and a blanket over his lap. A mug of tea steaming by his elbow, and the book Harry had gotten him for Christmas open on top of one of the throw pillows on his lap. It was a psychology book about how music affected the brain. Louis patted the couch cushion next to him, inviting Harry to join him. Harry lay down with his head at the opposite end of the couch, pushing his feet up against the outside of Louis’s thigh. Louis reached down with his right hand and started rubbing the top of Harry’s foot with his thumb. Harry was wearing red and white-striped socks that reminded Louis of Where’s Waldo. Harry opened _The Time Traveler’s Wife_ and started reading, and they read quietly together for about an hour.

At which point, Harry placed his bookmark between the pages and set his book down on the table, closing his eyes. Louis glanced over at him and bookmarked his own book, closing it softly. “Mmm, are we napping, then?” he asked hopefully. Harry nodded, smiling, his eyes still closed, and turned sideways on the couch, facing outward so Louis could squeeze in behind him. Louis crawled up the couch and tucked himself in snugly against Harry’s body, resting his left hand over Harry’s ribs and nestling his right hand under the pillow beneath his head. Louis sighed and pressed his face into the back of Harry’s neck, brushing his forehead on Harry’s curls. He heard Clifford’s tags jingling as he walked into the room, and felt him jump up on the end of the couch by their feet. Clifford turned around in precisely fifty circles before finally settling down, curling himself up in a tight ball. Louis massaged the dog’s back with his foot, letting him know he was a good boy, and then they all passed into a dreamy sunlit sleep.

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One day, late morning, Harry comes in from walking the trail in the woods, and looks around for Louis. He can’t find him anywhere downstairs, so he finally heads up the stairs. Louis had been on the phone with his tour manager before he left, and he had sounded frustrated. Harry hears sounds coming from their bathroom, and heads in that direction. The door is ajar, and Harry pushes it open hesitatingly. “Lou?” he calls. He walks in, and sees Louis on his knees in front of the toilet, retching into the bowl. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry rushes forward and places his hand gently on Louis’ back. “Are you OK? What’s wrong?” When Louis is done being sick, he sits back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Harry rubs his shoulder comfortingly, looking down at him with concern etched on his face. “It’s OK, Harry,” he whispers, his voice raspy. “I just have a migraine.” He lurches forward and is sick again, his body heaving. He sits back once more and breathes with his eyes closed for a moment. Then he moves to get up, and Harry rushes to help him, taking him by the arm gently, and leading him out into the bedroom. “Lie down,” Harry says needlessly, as Louis was already making for the bed. Harry sees that he is settled and then hurries back to the bathroom, bringing Louis a cool damp cloth for his face. Louis takes it gratefully, and sets it over his closed eyes. He hears Harry leave the room and go down the stairs.

Harry returns moments later, and Louis lifts a corner of the cloth over his eyes to glimpse Harry bearing a glass of water and a saucer with a couple of saltine crackers on it. He opens his palm revealing two white tablets, and offers them to Louis, who leans up on his elbow to toss them down his throat and chase them with a slow sip of water. He lays back on the bed, replacing the cloth over his eyes. Harry walks around to the other side of the bed and sits down. He rubs Louis’ thigh soothingly. “Do you want me to stay with you for a while?” Harry asks softly. Louis swallows and clears his throat. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice still hoarse from throwing up. “Just for a little bit.” Louis adds. “Until I fall asleep?” “Of course, baby,” Harry breathes, and he lays down beside Louis, placing his hand over Louis’ upturned palm. He traces the lines on Louis’ palm lightly with his fingertips, and slowly Louis relaxes and drifts off to sleep.

Harry is still there when Louis wakes up. He has a feeling he never left. Harry is still holding his hand, and Louis wiggles his fingers slightly. Harry stirs, blinking over at Louis. “How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice sleepy. “Better,” Louis smiles. “Thanks for taking care of me, darling.” Harry smiles. After a few minutes he asks, “Was it the conversation with your tour manager? That set you off?” “I think so, yeah” Louis replies. “He was telling me about how we’d probably have to put the whole thing off because of all these restrictions,” Louis says. “I was just so disappointed, you know? I worked so hard for this,” Louis continues, his voice breaking. Harry turns over so he’s facing him fully, giving Louis his undivided attention; he rubs Louis’ arm gently. Louis looks over at him with tears in his eyes. “Fuck,” he says. “Here I am crying like a baby about my tour, and yours got put on hold too.” Harry shakes his head. “Yeah, but it’s different, Lou,” he says. “This was your first solo tour. I’ve already done that. And you spent four years working on this. It must be so hard to have to wait to share it with everyone after all that.” Louis crumples then, his lip trembling and tears flowing hotly down his cheeks now. He rolls over toward Harry and buries his face against his chest, sobbing into him. Harry wraps his arms around him and rubs is back. “Don’t worry, baby,” he soothes. “One day this will all be over, and you’ll get your tour, and it will be amazing.”

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Louis finds Harry in the library, sitting at the piano. He’s scribbling away in his notebook, deep in thought. Louis hates to interrupt him when he’s working on his music, but he walks up next to him, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders and massaging them gently. “I’m going to go into town with Andy on the grocery run,” Louis says. “I need a change of scene for a few minutes.” Harry looks up from his notebook. “Ok,” he says agreeably. “Do you want me to get you anything?” Louis asks, turning to head back out of the room. Harry shrugs, then smiles over at him. “Surprise me,” he says with a grin.

Louis plunks down in the passenger seat next to Andy. Usually, either Andy or Jim or both of them go into town once a week for groceries or whatever supplies Harry and Louis need. Harry enjoys planning out their weekly menu and composing the grocery list every Tuesday night, handing it over to Jim or Andy on Wednesday morning. Andy and Jim stay down at the guest house at the end of the property while Louis and Harry stay up at the main house, and they call or text down to the guys whenever they need anything, which isn’t all that often, being in the middle of the English countryside. Andy and Jim are good guys; they understand Lou and Harry’s relationship. Louis and Harry invite them up for dinner once or twice a week and sometimes they have movie nights or game nights or play video games. Jim was one of their security guards during their One Direction days, and Andy was employed by Harry shortly after he began his solo career.

It’s about a 25-minute drive into the small village where they do their shopping. Louis gazes out the window at the scenery and chats with Andy about football and the latest chaos that is going on in the world with all this COVID stuff. They pull into the parking lot of the supermarket, and Louis puts on a baseball cap and a pair of glasses. They look like regular glasses, but the lenses are only glass and not prescription. Louis knows the chances of him being recognized in this small village are not high, but he still likes to disguise himself a bit, just in case. He pulls the face mask up over his nose and pulls his sweatshirt sleeves down to cover the tattoos on his arms, and follows Andy into the market. Andy pushes the cart, and Louis reads off of the grocery list. Andy adds his own groceries in for him and Jim, and they are done and at the checkout in no time.

They load the bags into the trunk, and then walk across the parking lot to the pharmacy. Andy goes to the back to pick up a prescription, and Louis wanders the aisles, grabbing random things he doesn’t realize he needs until he sees them, like a new toothbrush, some razor blades, a bag of jelly beans. He walks by an endcap with a display of nail polish, and stops, scanning the different colors. He picks up a sparkly pink one and flips it over to read the color name on the bottom. He nearly screams in delight when he does. Watermelon Sugar, it says. Louis sees Andy waiting for him up by the cash register. He walks up to him, grinning. “Look at this, mate!” he says excitedly, showing Andy the color name. Andy reads it and laughs out loud. “Perfect,” he says.

When they arrive back at the house, Louis hurriedly helps Andy bring all the groceries inside into the kitchen. Then he shouts goodbye to Andy and rushes to look for Harry, clutching the little bottle of nail polish in his hand. He finds Harry in the exact same place he left him, but instead of writing in his notebook, he is staring straight ahead of him, out into space. Louis hides the nail polish in his hands behind his back and walks up to him. “Are you ready for your surprise?” He asks, trying to hide his grin. “Always,” Harry replies, spinning around on the piano bench to face Louis. Louis brings his closed fist from behind his back and slowly opens his fingers. Harry beams up at him. “Ooh,” he says, picking up the bottle. “Oh, but look at what it’s called,” Louis prompts. Harry upends the bottle and makes that honking laugh that he makes when he isn’t prepared to laugh. He smacks his hand over his mouth like he usually does when he makes such a honk, and laughs up at Louis. “No way!” he squeals, shaking the bottle rapidly in his hand. He jumps up from the piano bench and practically skips over to the coffee table. “We have to put this on now,” he says excitedly. “Lou, paint them for me,” he pleads. “Ok, ok,” Louis concedes, though he is equally as excited. He kneels down at the coffee table next to Harry, and Harry fans his fingers out flat on the table surface. “Honestly, I was expecting you to bring me gummy bears or a magazine or something,” Harry says, as he watches Louis carefully apply the polish to the first nail. “But this was… well, I can’t believe you found this color!” Louis grins at Harry, then looks down at Harry’s nails, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he focuses on the tiny pinkie nail. Harry does not know how he could possibly love him any more than he does at this moment.

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Louis is wandering the house after lunch, bored. He bounces one of Clifford’s tennis balls on the floor ahead of him as he walks down the hall, looking for Harry. He walks by the office on his way to the sun room, and stops, walking backwards as he catches sight of Harry behind the large wooden desk. He’s typing on his laptop, and smiles up at Louis when he walks in the room. “Hey, Lovey,” Harry says, sliding back from the desk a bit in the rolling office chair. “Hey, Pudding,” Louis replies, plopping down on Harry’s lap. “I’m bored.” Harry kisses his cheek and rubs his thigh. Louis places his hand over Harry’s on his thigh and guides it up towards his crotch. Harry chuckles and kisses Louis wetly on the mouth.

Their kissing intensifies, and Louis pulls away and slides down Harry’s body onto the floor. Up on his knees, he starts undoing Harry’s jeans, and Harry raises his hips off the chair to assist with sliding them off. Jeans and pants down around Harry’s ankles, Louis runs his hands up Harry’s shins, halting his palms over his kneecaps, and then continuing to run his palms up Harry’s thighs. He plays around with him with his hands for a bit before enveloping him in his mouth. Harry’s looking down at Louis adoringly, combing his fingers through Louis’s hair, and Louis is taking him all in now, moving more quickly. A loud chiming erupts from Harry’s laptop, alerting him to an incoming video call. Harry groans and looks towards the screen. “Oh shit,” he mutters, pushing Louis’s head back rather half-heartedly. “Mmph,” Louis mumbles around Harry’s cock in protest. Harry bites his lip and looks down at Louis. “It’s Liam and Niall,” he tells Louis. “We’re supposed to be talking with them at two.” Louis leans back, releasing Harry. “Tell them to fuck off,” he says. “We’re busy.” Harry bites back his laugh. “Lou, we’re supposed to be talking about the reunion stuff. It’s kind of important.” Louis leans back again in frustration. “Fine. Answer it then,” he says, looking put out. Harry slides the desk chair in a little and angles the camera on the laptop up a bit so there’s no chance of his naked lap being visible, and clicks on the video chat to answer it. “Jesus, Harry,” Liam spits out, in lieu of a proper greeting. “Took you long enough to answer. Did you forget? Two o’clock? Don’t give me some BS like you’re on L.A. time either. I know exactly where you are.” Niall is simply giggling on the other side of the screen.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry stutters. “I lost track of time.” “Where’s Louis?” Liam asks. “He’ll be along in a minute,” Harry says. “Well I’m not waiting all day. He can catch up when he gets here,” Liam says, and he launches into their reunion plans, discussing song choices and the like. Harry can feel Louis moving around by his feet and under the desk, but he refuses to look down at him. Suddenly, Harry feels Louis’ lips encircling his dick again, and Harry gives a little yelp of surprise. Liam stops talking, and he and Niall both look at Harry questioningly. “Sorry, I, uh, stubbed my toe,” Harry coughs lightly, and reaches down with one hand to push against Louis’ forehead. Louis only redoubles his efforts, and Harry attempts to focus on the conversation before him, biting his lip and grimacing into the camera. Luckily, Niall and Liam seem to be too absorbed in the discussion to pay too much attention to Harry’s facial expressions. Harry has to cover his mouth with his hand when he comes, and flips the laptop away facing out across the office so the guys don’t catch sight of his face. Harry hears them stuttering in confusion and yelling to him about where he went, but he ignores if for the moment as he takes a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, and glares down at Louis, who is smirking up at him from under the desk, running his fingers around his lips in satisfaction.

Louis pops up and sits down on Harry’s lap before Harry can pull his pants up, and then Louis is turning the laptop back around to face them. “Hi, lads,” he says cheerfully to them. “Sorry I’m late. Had to finish up a call with Lottie.” Harry sends a sideways glare at him, which Louis catches, and smiles sweetly at him, as Niall and Liam tell him it’s no big deal and then begin to catch him up on what he’s missed so far.

Once the video call is over, and Harry’s closed his laptop down, he pinches Louis hard on the bum. “I can’t believe you did that, you wanker! It’s a wonder they didn’t catch on to what was happening.” “oh, come on,” Louis says. “You liked it, Haz. It was fun.” Harry’s stony glare crumbles into a devious grin. “Ok, yeah,” he admits. “it was kind of fun."

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Louis grunts as he lowers his body down to the mat, raising his chest up and straightening his arms out to come up into upward dog. He glances over as Harry is already out of down-dog and is moving through to the next posture, stepping up to standing and folding in half over his feet before slowly rising and lifting his hands over his head, bringing his hands together in prayer, and then lowering them down to the center of his chest. Louis is sweating. He wonders how this is supposed to be a relaxing activity. It feels a lot like exercise to him. He wonders why he let Harry talk him into this. They are moving through their third sun salutation, and pausing in downward dog for five breaths when Louis huffs out, “This seems a bit sexual, Haz.” “You can make anything seem ‘a bit sexual’” Harry says matter-of-factly. But he glances over at Louis with is bum in the air and thinks maybe he does make a fair point.

They follow the YouTube instructional video through the rest of the flow sequence, getting to the stretching part towards the end. Harry watches a little jealously as Louis folds his right leg under and stretches out the left leg in the back, folding the top half of his body over for pigeon pose. Harry struggles to bend his right leg and can’t fold very far over at all. Although he has better balance than Louis, Lou has more flexibility. They do some seated twists, arms bent at right angles, elbows resting on kneecaps, heads turned to look over the opposite shoulder. At seated wide-leg fold, Louis chooses to face Harry rather than the same direction as Harry, and he grins across the floor at him. Louis spreads his legs in a wide angle, practically doing a split, and smirks over at Harry who only manages a narrow V shape with his own long legs. Louis folds forward and stares at Harry the whole time. Harry swallows his laugh and turns his face away. “Lou, you’re breaking my focus,” he giggles. “Stop being dirty.” “I’m just doing the postures,” Louis says innocently. This is what Harry gets for tricking him into doing this so-called relaxing activity.

They finally make it to savasana, the resting pose, and lie flat on their backs on their mats. They let their feet and hands rest limply, and practice the breathing sequence the instructor’s voice is taking them through. The voice is instructing them to ‘let it all go’ and as if on cue, Harry lets out a distinct fart. Louis bursts out laughing. “Did you do that on purpose?” Louis gasps, hardly able to contain himself. He is sitting up now, looking over at Harry, who is also sitting up, blushing a bit, and shaking his head. “No,” he says. “I really didn’t.” Louis continues to laugh, wiping tears from his eyes. He gets up and stands behind Harry, he bends over to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck and kisses Harry’s laughing face. “God, I love you, Harry.”

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Harry leans back in the patio chair, his long legs propped up on another chair out in front of him. Louis sits in a chair next to him, his feet propped up on Harry’s outstretched legs. They pass a joint back and forth between them and blow smoke up into the warm air on the sun-drenched back porch. Clifford lolls about on the deck to Louis’ left. Louis watches Harry’s lips curve around the joint, and continues to watch his lips as he forms them into an “O” attempting to make a smoke ring. “Do you still have that strawberry lipstick?” Louis asks apropos of nothing. Harry scratches his head with one finger. “I think so,” he replies. “Somewhere. Why?” “Mmmh,” Louis shrugs. “Was just thinking about it, s’all.” Harry smiles, no doubt thinking of the exact same memory as Louis.

It was about a year and a half ago, and Louis had come to Harry bearing a blank white index card and a tube of red lipstick called “strawberry kiss.” He had asked Harry to put the lipstick on and make an imprint on the index card, shushing all of Harry’s questions. Harry applied the lipstick, but then refused to go any further until Louis told him what it was for. Louis had whined about how he’d wanted it to be a surprise, but then he finally admitted that he wanted the imprint for a tattoo. He told Harry he’d gotten the idea online (which Harry later found out that it had more specifically come from a porno video in which one of the actors had such a tattoo on his ass). Harry kissed the index card, and it came out a bit smudgey, so Louis had him reapply, blot his lips on a piece of toilet paper, and try again on the other side of the card. This time it came out perfectly. Louis grinned down at it, and tucked the card carefully inside an envelope. Harry sprang at Louis then, and covered his face with kisses. Drawing back, he had to suppress a laugh. He quickly pulled his phone from his pocket, telling Louis “don’t move.” The resulting picture revealed Louis looking into the camera quizzically, his hair sticking out all over his head, and red lipstick prints all over his cheeks, his chin, forehead, and nose. His lips were smudged a deep red, making it look like he’d made out with a circus clown, and there was one perfect set of lip prints on his neck. Harry laughed and turned the phone so Louis could look at the photo. “Oh, God. You better not show that to anyone,” Louis warned. Harry shook his head smiling. “I won’t,” he promised. “It’s just for me.” Two days later, and Louis proudly sported the lipstick print of Harry’s lips tattooed on his flesh. It was on his ass, of course.

“We should put the lipstick on you this time,” Harry says, smiling. “It _was_ on me last time,” Louis reminds him. “It was _all over_ me!” Harry laughs, “I mean we should put it on your lips first and you can kiss me.” Louis makes a face, tugging the corners of his mouth down as if to say ‘I’m down for that.’ “I think I brought it with me,” Harry says in a hopeful tone. “Tonight!” and he raises his finger in the air and shakes it at Louis.

Louis stubs the joint out on the saucer on the little table between their chairs. “I’m hungry,” he says. Harry slowly turns his head to look at Louis. He blinks behind his sunglasses, and then says “there’s those chocolate chip cookies I made yesterday.” “Excellent,” Louis cheers, and hops up to get them. He comes back outside with the entire plate full and sets it down on the little table. He had already stuffed one in his mouth and has two more in his hand.

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“Whatcha writing?” Louis asks, coming up behind Harry at the piano, and peering over his shoulder at the scrawling script in his lyric journal. “Working on a new song,” Harry replies. “Is it another about how my bodily fluids taste?” Louis quips. Harry sets down his pen and turns to glare at Louis. “You know,” he says, “most people think ‘Watermelon Sugar’ is about eating out a _woman_.” Louis makes a face as if it were a perfectly outlandish idea. “Why would anyone believe that anything besides _my ass_ could taste like strawberries?” Louis asks with mock-seriousness. “Well,” Harry muses, “most people have never experienced an ass like yours.” He pulls Louis onto his lap. “And most people never will if I have anything to say about it.”

“The real question,” Harry continues, petting Louis’ thigh, “is where is a song from you about how I taste?” “What?” Louis squawks indignantly. “What is ‘No Control,’ then?” “You didn’t mention a specific flavor,” Harry pouts. Louis rolls his eyes. “Alright. I’ll work on it, Love,” he affirms, kissing Harry on the check. “Meanwhile, the real reason I came in here, is to ask you what you want for dinner. It’s going on seven, and I’m starving.” “Oh, shit, I completely lost track of time,” Harry apologizes, moving to get up. “I’ll fix us up something,” he says and heads toward the kitchen.

Louis follows behind him. “I didn’t mean you had to drop everything and come cook me something,” Louis says. “I asked what you wanted to eat. I’m not completely helpless, you know.” Harry turns back and smiles. “I know you’re not, Love,” he consoles. “But I needed to step away from working anyway, and besides, we can cook something together. I like it when we cook together.” “Alright,” Louis concedes. “But I’m not letting you do all the work, while I sit around and slowly get drunk on wine like the last time.” Harry laughs and turns on some music.

Louis stands before the open fridge doors, eyes scanning the shelves. “We have some chicken,” he says to Harry over his shoulder. Harry murmurs in assent, and they decide on a chicken teriyaki stir-fry. Harry busies himself chopping up a head of broccoli and tossing the pieces into a pot. Louis lays out the chicken breasts on a cutting board and starts slicing them into strips. Fifteen minutes later, Harry is taking the chicken and veggies off the stove, and Louis is giving the rice one last stir. ‘Thinking Out Loud’ starts playing over the speakers in the kitchen, and Harry smiles to himself, swaying slightly in front of the stove. His hip bumps into Louis’, and Louis smiles and starts swaying too. Louis turns to the cupboard to get out a couple plates, and when he turns back, Harry is standing before him with his hands held up, inviting Louis to dance with him. Louis sets the plates down on the counter, and obliges happily, taking Harry’s right hand in his left one, and resting his right hand on top of Harry’s shoulder. Harry curls his left arm around Louis’ waist, and they dance in a slow circle about the kitchen. As the second verse starts, Harry pulls Louis closer and wraps both arms around his waist; Louis moves his other hand up to Harry’s shoulder and laces his fingers at the back of Harry’s neck. They smile into each other’s eyes for a moment, and then Louis rests his check down on Harry’s chest, and they just sway back and forth in each other’s arms until the song ends.

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Louis sits cross-legged on the floor of the library, flicking through a comic book that he’s taken from a stack next to him. He absentmindedly stuffs chips into his mouth, his eyes scanning the blocks of the Spiderman comic open in front of him. He found this stash of comic books on a bottom corner shelf, and decided to bring the whole lot to the rug in front of the fireplace to sift through them, attempting to keep himself occupied while Harry is doing his phone interview with some radio station in London. He is wholly absorbed in Spiderman’s efforts to save a bus full of children from drowning in the river, when suddenly he realizes he’s hearing Clifford barking in the background. He frowns at the interruption, but then starts reading again because Clifford always barks at nonsense. But then he remembers Harry’s phone interview taking place in the office just down the hall. “Oh, shit,” he mutters under his breath. He scrambles up off the floor, running out into the hallway in his sock feet, following the sound of the barking.

He sees Clifford at the French doors to the porch, barking at some squirrel outside. “Clifford!” he whisper-shouts, “Shut up!” Clifford stops at Louis’ voice and turns to look at him imploringly, wagging his tail and whining to go out. Louis opens the door, and Clifford dashes out, the squirrel he was after long gone. Louis tiptoes past the closed office door. Hopefully, Clifford’s barking didn’t make it through, he thinks as he heads back to the library.

It’s about twenty minutes later when Harry enters the library. He walks over and stands looming over Louis. Louis slowly looks up at Harry’s face. Harry is scowling. Uh-oh. Louis decides to play dumb. “How’d the interview go?” he asks innocently. “It was going fine until a certain dog started barking his head off in the background,” Harry spluttered. “I’m sorry, Harry,” Louis apologized. “He saw a squirrel outside. Why is it a big deal, anyway?” Louis asks. “It’s not like anyone will know it’s Clifford.” Harry sighs. “I know, but when we heard him barking, I panicked, and I sounded stupid,” Harry says. “Come listen to the audio,” Harry begs, pulling Louis up off the floor and leading him to the office. The full interview is recorded on Harry’s laptop, and he pulls up the point in the interview for Louis to listen to. Harry hits “play” and Louis hears the female radio host asking Harry a question, then hears Harry’s voice start to answer, then he hears the unmistakable sound of a dog barking, loudly, as if it was right outside Harry’s door. Louis grimaces, and listens as the interviewer comments on the barking, asking what it is, and Harry stumbling around for an answer. “Oh, Haz,” Louis says, “Why are you so bad a lying?” Harry glares at him and punches him in the arm. “If you could control your dog, I wouldn’t have to lie,” he retorts. Louis shakes his head. “You could have said it was the neighbor’s dog, your friend’s dog,” Louis goes on. “But instead you said ‘it doesn’t live here’?” Louis asks incredulously. “I told you I panicked!” Harry nearly shouts. “That’s what happens when I try to lie.” Louis shakes his head. “Calm down, Haz,” Louis soothes. “Let’s not fight about it. I’m sure no one will even notice it.”

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The idea hatched in Louis’ brain two weeks ago. They had been walking on the quiet dirt road back towards the house. Passing by the field that belonged to the farm down the road, they saw a brown tabby cat come out of the field and walk along the side of the road. When it saw them, the cat started walking towards them, and Harry bent down to pet it. It was a very friendly cat, and butted its head into Harry’s hand. They were stopped nearly ten minutes petting the cat and Harry talked to it, and just when Louis was beginning to think they would be there the rest of the day, the cat must have seen something in the field because it sprang off into the tall grass. So Harry and Louis were forced to walk on. Although Louis loved animals, he had never realized before quite how much Harry loved them as well, particularly cats. Apparently. Louis had to confess he had been previously unaware of Harry’s fondness for felines before this particular encounter. But Harry seemed unable to shut up about the cat for days afterward. Besides suggesting that they walk down by that field again, he also took to watching cat videos online.

After Harry had shown him what seemed the 200th cat video in a week, Louis realized he needed to get Harry a cat. He enlisted Jim’s assistance, asking him to inquire in town about places to adopt a cat. When Jim texted him about a week later, saying he’d talked to a lady who owned a farm and had a barn kitten they could have, Louis was ecstatic. He texted back right away, tell her we’ll take it!

The day Jim was scheduled to pick up the kitten, Louis was awake at 6:30am. He felt like a kid on Christmas morning. He made himself stay in bed another half hour, but then he couldn’t take it anymore. Leaving Harry sleeping peacefully on the other side of the bed, he got up, dressed hurriedly in some gym shorts and a t-shirt, and headed down to the basement to distract himself by working out. Jim texted him a little before 9:00, telling him he was leaving to go pick up the cat. Louis responded, telling him to drive up to the house as soon as he was back, and they would surprise Harry. Louis showered and fixed himself some breakfast, and then he waited for what seemed like an eternity for Jim to get back. Harry came downstairs when Louis was finishing up his tea and scrolling through his phone in an effort to distract himself. He chatted with Harry about this and that, and they made plans to watch a movie a little later in the afternoon since it was rainy out. Harry set his empty cereal bowl in the sink and headed to the office, telling Louis he was going to work on a few things for a bit, and Louis nodded and headed toward the front of the house, looking out the window in anticipation.

Finally, Louis heard tires crunch over the gravel drive, and saw Jim’s car pulling up to the house. He opened the door and ran out to meet them. Andy was in the passenger seat. Jim opened the back door of the car, and brought out a medium-sized box. He opened the flaps slightly, and Louis peeked inside. A white and grey kitten stared up at him, meowing a hello. “Oh my god, it’s so cute,” Louis gushed. He reached his hand in and pet the soft little head. Jim handed the box over to Louis, and Louis folded the flaps down again to carry the box inside, motioning for Andy and Jim to follow him. They hurried along behind, toting all the cat’s accessories: food, dishes, cat litter, litterbox, toys. Louis burst through the front door with Jim and Andy following. “Harry!” he shouted. “Lou?” he heard Harry yell from the back of the house. “Come meet me in the den! I have a surprise for you!” Louis shouted back. He set the box down on the carpet in the den and knelt down beside it. Andy and Jim set the cat’s accoutrements down at the side of the couch and took a seat on the couch.

Harry entered the room a few moments later, and seeing Andy and Jim, smiled and said “Hey guys, what’s up?” before he noticed Louis sitting on the floor, smiling broadly. Louis patted the rug next to him, and Harry knelt down peering at the box. “Open it,” Louis urged, sliding the box in front of Harry. Harry smiled and tentatively untucked the flaps of the box. He looked inside and his mouth fell open. For a moment he was speechless, gazing down in awe. Then, shaking his head as if in disbelief, he reached inside and scooped up the small body. “Oh my god,” he said, hugging the kitten close to his chest. He looked at Louis, his face radiating pure delight; Louis reflected it right back. Harry next turned to Andy and Jim. “I can’t believe it,” Harry stuttered. He leaned over to hug Louis, but didn’t want to put the cat down, so it was pressed in between them in an embrace. Harry got up to hug Jim and Andy next, pressing the kitten in between them. “What’s its name?” Harry asked, gazing down lovingly at it. “She doesn’t have a name yet,” Jim told him. “You get to pick it.” “I’ll have to think about it,” Harry said. “It’s a girl?” Jim nodded. The four of them spent the next half hour absorbed in the cat, playing with her, petting her, discussing where she would sleep, when they should feed her.

After Jim and Andy left, Louis and Harry continued to occupy themselves with the cat. After Louis had made them sandwiches for lunch, (Harry being far too busy to even think of making himself anything), they settled down on the couch in the den. Only once the kitten curled up on the couch next to Harry’s leg, did Harry finally allow Louis to start a movie. Although, Louis is fairly certain that Harry watched the cat more than he watched the movie. The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon setting up the litterbox and the food bowls, and making the kitty acquainted to her surroundings.

Later that night, as they sat side by side in bed, propped up against their pillows, Harry sat with his book propped open on his lap, which he was totally ignoring while he watched the cat grooming herself between them on the bed. Louis likewise ignored the open _Rolling Stone_ magazine lying open on his lap as he stared at Harry staring at the cat. “Have you thought of a name yet?” Louis asked. Harry smiled. “Yes.” Louis waited, and when it appeared that Harry was not going to continue, “And?” he prompted. “Her name is Louisa,” Harry declared. Louis turned his head and stared at him. “Are you serious?” he asked. Harry finally tore his eyes away from the kitten and grinned at Louis. He nodded. “I’m going to call her Lulu for short,” he said. Louis gaped at him. “You’re naming your cat after me?” Harry furrowed his brow. “Who says it’s after you, you egomaniac?” he asked. “Maybe it’s after Louisa May Alcott.” It’s Louis’ turn to furrow his brow, and he scowls at Harry. Harry laughs at him. “I don’t see how I could name her anything else,” Harry adds, and he closes his book and shimmies down to rest his head on the pillow, turning out his bedside lamp. Louis shakes his head, but smiles softly to himself, incredibly flattered that Harry named his cat after him.

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Harry sighs heavily as he pulls open the door to the dryer. “What’s wrong, Haz?” Louis asks as he folds towels from the basket on the floor by the counter. “I’m tired of dressing like a hobo every day,” Harry mopes, as he pulls several pairs of sweatpants and athletic shorts from the dryer. “No one’s stopping you from dressing up, Sweetie,” Louis returns. “Yeah, but what’s the point when I’m not leaving the house,” Harry says. “Oh, I suppose there’s no reason to look nice for me,” Louis glowers. Harry scowls. “You know that’s not what I meant.” “Why don’t we dress up tonight then?” Louis suggests. “We can have a date night. Have a nice dinner at the dining room table. Set the table all up nice. Candles. The whole nine yards.” Harry’s face lights up. “Yeah?” he asks. Louis beams back at him. “I’ll make my mozzarella-stuffed chicken,” he offers, and Harry grins.

That night they take turns getting ready. Louis sends Harry upstairs to get dressed while he works on dinner. He puts it in the oven to keep warm, and then heads upstairs to get dressed. When he enters the bedroom, Harry is in the walk-in closet, so Louis sneaks into the bathroom to shower quickly.

  
Downstairs, Louis enters the kitchen to find Harry pouring out two glasses of wine. He turns when he hears Louis’ footsteps, and smiles, his eyes taking Louis in from head to toe. Louis is wearing black dress pants, a blue button-down shirt, shiny black shoes, and a navy blue bow tie with tiny white polka dots on it. He’s styled his hair so that it’s combed back and sort of swirled up in the front. He’s put styling gel in it for the first time in eons, and he looks like a movie star. Harry stares at him for a long time. Harry himself is wearing skinny-fitting black dress pants, a loose, red silky shirt with black flowers on it, open at the chest with at least the top four buttons undone, black boots with a wooden heel, and rings on nearly all of his fingers. “You look incredible,” Louis murmurs, stepping forward and planting a kiss on Harry’s cheek. “You look incredible,” Harry returns. Louis thinks he actually sees him lick his lips.

Louis shoos Harry into the dining room with the wine, and Louis slips the potholders onto his hands and removes the chicken from the oven. They enjoy their dinner, sipping their wine, gazing at each other fondly in the candlelight. Louis laughs at Harry when Clifford wanders in and rests his chin on Harry’s knee. Harry gives in and slips Clifford a piece of chicken under the table under Louis’ disapproving eye. Then Harry laughs at Louis when Louisa pads her way into the dining room and snakes herself around Louis’ ankles, purring and leaving her white hairs all over Louis’ black pants. Louis tries to discreetly slip her a tiny piece of chicken, but Harry totally sees, and fakes disapproval.

After dinner, Louis is placing the plates in the sink in the kitchen. Harry walks up behind him and slips the glasses into the sink, then he slips his hands around Louis’ waist, his thumbs massaging his hip bones, and kisses the back of Louis’ neck. Louis leans his head to the side, giving Harry easier access. “Thank you for tonight,” Harry murmurs against Louis’ neck. Louis smiles and places his hands over Harry’s on the front of his hips. He can feel Harry’s erection pressing up against his ass. He turns in Harry’s arms and stretches up to kiss Harry passionately on the lips. Harry is already fiddling with Louis’ bow tie and starting to unbutton his shirt. 

Before long, they are both shirtless and breathless from kissing. Louis unfastens Harry’s trousers with one hand; he sends the fingers of his other hand playing over Harry’s nipple. He sinks down to his knees on the kitchen floor, pulling Harry’s trousers down with him. He reaches up for Harry’s underwear and gasps. Harry is wearing the lacy red panties. “Oh, God,” Louis groans. He runs his hands all over Harry’s lace-covered crotch, placing kisses all down Harry’s thighs. He stops his lips over the inside of Harry’s right thigh, hovering over the small blue heart-shaped tattoo there, no bigger than a fingernail. He bites at the skin and licks over it several times; it’s his favorite place on Harry’s body to kiss. Louis has a green heart in the same spot, but on his left thigh. 

Louis spends several minutes sucking Harry off, rubbing the top of Harry’s bare foot with his left hand, pressing his fingers into Harry’s ass with his right hand. Harry moans and gently pushes Louis back, then lifts him up by his arms. He turns Louis around so he’s facing the low counter, and presses him down gently over the top of it so Louis’ chest is pressed down over the counter, his ass sticking outward. Harry runs his hands down Louis’ back and grips his ass, massaging it in meaty handfuls. He kisses a line down the center of Louis’ back and swipes his tongue down the crack of his ass. Louis whines and wriggles beneath him, spreading his legs farther apart. Harry bends lower, placing a hand on either of Louis’ cheeks to pull them apart. Harry tongues him roughly, working in copious amounts of saliva and then pressing in a finger. Louis moans and thrusts his ass back into Harry’s hand, wriggling around on Harry’s finger, trying to work him in deeper. Harry stands up and pulls Louis back toward him by the shoulder, positioning his body down a bit so he can get a better angle. He presses into Louis, and Louis is on fire, hot and tight and eager. Harry ruts into him, holding Louis by the hips and using his hands as a buffer so Louis’ body doesn’t bang into the countertop too roughly. Louis purrs beneath him like a cat, arching his back, and moving his ass in rhythm with Harry’s hips, his exhalations leaving his mouth in breathless little pants that leave condensation clouds on the dark cool marble countertop. Harry groans as he comes inside Louis, gradually slowing his hips down, then quickly pulling out and flipping Louis over. Louis gasps, back against the counter, and Harry sinks down to his knees to finish him off. Louis comes down his throat seconds later, crying out and gripping Harry’s hair in his hands. They both collapse in a heap, sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning their backs against the cabinets. Harry leans his head down on Louis’ shoulder. He sticks his tongue out and licks at Louis’s skin and Louis giggles. He returns the favor by licking Harry on his pec. They continue in this vein until they both dissolve in giggles, rolling around on the kitchen floor.


End file.
